


A Bit of a Climb

by Jaelijn



Series: B7 Trope Fics [1]
Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Gen or Slash, Huddling For Warmth, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-11 08:49:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12931779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaelijn/pseuds/Jaelijn
Summary: On the way to Star One, Blake insists on going back to Exbar to update his relatives on their progress. Blake is the only one that wanted to go in the first place, and of course things never go to plan. Vilareallydoesn't like the cold.For the trope: "Huddle for Warmth"





	A Bit of a Climb

Vila blew on his hands and stamped his feet against the cold. Thermal suits were all well and good, but the wind was biting at his face through the faux fur lining of his hood and the fingerless gloves only did so much. He really hadn’t wanted to go back to Exbar – but Blake had insisted, wanting to update his uncle on their progress, and check on theirs – once Star One was gone, Exbar would be one of the first independent planets, uninfluenced by Federation climate control. It was only supposed to be a short walk to the camp Blake’s cousin and uncle had established around the old tower base, but there had been a rock fall and the place they had teleported down to seemed to be cut off from any sensible route.

Vila looked up at a clatter of stones, half-heartedly lifting his gun – but it was only Avon, grim-faced, dark boots and gloves covered in white dust.

“Any good?”

Avon shook his head. “I can’t see any way in that direction, unless we want to scale a cliff face, and who knows where that will take us.”

“No, thank you.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Avon blew on his own hands, rubbing them just as Vila had done a moment ago. Earlier, Vila had caught Avon rubbing at his upper arm, where he’d been shot the last time – only Avon had noticed him staring and had wrenched his hand away, levelling a nasty glare at Vila. Vila had looked away then.

“Blake isn’t back yet,” Vila told him inanely.

“I can _see_ that.”

Vila pulled a face. “I want to go back to the ship, at least get some proper gloves. A short walk, he said!”

For a moment, Avon looked rather like he might simply agree, running his hand over the fingers of the other to return some warmth to them. They both had opted for fingerless gloves for dexterity – thinking that they would not have to be outside for very long. “Weren’t you listening?” Avon said finally. “We can’t.”

“Yeah, yeah, I listened, Ushton's shield pulses, blah blah blah – but, Avon, if we change the frequency on the bracelet, get the teleport pulse onto a different wavelength…”

“That would work, _if_ someone on the _Liberator_ did the same thing to the teleport. But since I’m down here and the others don’t even know that we need any help at all, I wouldn’t go looking for rescue from that quarter.” Avon brushed at the dust coating his sleeve but only succeeded in spreading it around. “Where the hell is Blake?!”

As if on cue, a further skittering of pebbles signalled Blake’s decent from Vila’s right. He didn’t look too happy, which instantly made Vila feel even colder.

“Well?” Avon snapped at him.

Blake ignored the dark glance and looked to Vila first. “Vila?”

“Not a chance. The valley is completely closed off.”

“Damn.” Blake dusted off his hands, and Vila eyed his full gloves enviously. There was even some colour on Blake’s cheeks. “Avon?”

“Not unless you fancy going rock climbing into the unknown. No luck on your end, I take it.”

“Oh, we can get out that way – ”

“What are we waiting for, then? Let’s go!” Vila exclaimed, but Blake held up his hand.

“ – but I had hoped we wouldn’t have to. It’s a bit of a climb, and the air will get quite thin. We can travel the ridge and reach the tower that way – but it will take time, and we won’t make it before nightfall.”

“Marvellous. We cannot stay the night, Blake! We’ll freeze!”

“Do you have a better idea?”

Avon looked almost sheepish. “As a matter of fact I don’t.” He bared his teeth in a not-grin. “Well, shall we go? We’re wasting daylight.”

“No chance of _contacting_ the _Liberator_? They could send some equipment down, at least,” Vila said as they started walking, Blake leading the way. “Blankets. A tent. A thermos of hot tea.”

“Proper gloves,” Avon added, almost wistfully, then seemed to catch himself. “If I could adjust the bracelets, maybe, but I can’t do it out here, and I certainly can’t do it once it gets dark. Either we find shelter or we keep walking.”

 

The climb up to the ridge was torturous. It wasn’t quite the cliff face Avon had found on the other side of the valley, but it was a steep and ragged hillside nonetheless, and the loose pebbles that seemed to cover every surface, held in place by some sparse brushes and trees, were treacherous to step on.

Vila barely had air to yelp when he lost his footing for the umpteenth time, and could only mouth his thanks when Avon’s hand closed around his wrist and stalled his fall. Avon nodded, grim-faced, and turned to continue the climb. Vila sat for a moment, staring mournfully at his poor hands, covered in bloody abrasions and dust – perhaps there was some good in that he barely felt them for the cold – then followed. He hadn’t missed Avon’s glance at the darkening sky, nor the fact that they hadn’t even reached the crest of the ridge yet. Blake was ahead, probably drawing on some memory of his boyhood self scaling these hills to ease his ascend. Vila wanted more than anything to be somewhere warm and indoors, like a nice, cosy dome...

Ahead of him, Avon slipped and caught himself on his hands, only the foot wedged against a barren stick of a tree he’d used as a stepping stone preventing him from slipping further down and right into Vila. Vila thought he’d heard him curse breathlessly, and managed to catch up while Avon wasn’t moving.

“All right?” he asked.

Avon glared. “Save your breath.” But he looked up the hill where Blake had vanished from sight, and lifted his bracelet. “Blake.”

“What is it, Avon?”

“Ask him how much farther,” Vila put in, but as expected Avon ignored him.

“We need to find shelter. We cannot travel once it gets dark.”

“You might be right,” Blake responded, sounding infuriatingly calm. “We’ve made less progress than I’d hoped. I’ll have a look around. There might be a cave nearby. Blake out.”

Avon lowered his arm and continued climbing without another word. Vila had had a glimpse at Avon’s hands and winced in sympathy as Avon pushed his fingers into a gap in a rocky outgrop to pull himself up a steep section – then it occurred to him that he would have to do the same thing, and the sympathy fled, leaving weary resignation. He stuck to Avon’s heels, out of breath and energy to do more than keep up, but Avon had slowed down since they’d started out, too. At first, they’d been able to keep up with Blake.

Suddenly, the crest of the hill was in sight, and Vila almost lost his grip with relief. Avon reached it first, and Vila expected him to push to his feet and leave Vila to fend for himself – _only a little bit more, Restal, you can do it_ – but Avon remained on his knees, and after a moment turned around and reached down, pulling Vila up beside him by his wrist.

“Thanks,” Vila gasped, lying awkwardly on the cold and dusty ground, his lungs working desperately to supply him with enough air.

“Don’t mention it,” Avon said, sounding equally out of breath.

The light was fading rapidly now, and now that he’d stopped moving, Vila could feel the cold seeping in, despite the fact that his suit was turned up to the highest humanly bearable setting.

“Avon, Vila! Over here!” Blake stood a little off, where the ridge sloped gently down and up again, waving at them.

“How,” Vila gasped as they climbed to their feet, “does _he_ have the breath to shout?”

Avon just shook his head.

When they reached Blake, it became obvious why he had called them over. Set into the side of the hill, opposite to where they had climbed, was a cavern, hidden behind some scruffy brush and what might be the remains of an old animal hide.

“Shelter?” Avon asked, sounding weary.

“Yes,” Blake said with unjustified enthusiasm. “Ushton established several of these around the hills, in case he got caught out in bad weather. It doesn’t look like it has been used in a while, but it will at least shelter us from the wind. There is also some firewood left.”

Vila ended his musings on how Blake could _still_ be so verbose at that and brightened. “A fire?”

“Only a small one, mind. It won’t last long, so we should safe it for the coldest part of the night. There are some furs.”

Avon pushed past him, stepping into the cavern, and Vila followed behind him, sticking close out of sheer force of habit. The cavern wasn’t particularly spacious. As far as Vila could make out with him and Avon blocking the light, there was only a sleeping platform with a few abandoned furs, as Blake had said, a small stack of twigs and a fireplace near the exit.

“No chance they’re _faux_ furs, is there?” Vila muttered, eyeing them. They looked soft and warm, but…

“Probably not,” Avon agreed, not looking exactly happy himself. He sat stiffly on the sleeping platform, away from the furs, and settled his hands in his lap. He seemed reluctant to move them overmuch – Vila knew the feeling. Out of the wind, his own hands had really started to hurt.

Blake had followed after them and started to shake out the furs, apparently oblivious to the morose expressions from his two crewmates. At least he’d stopped making conversation. Until, that was, he wrapped one of the furs around his shoulders, settled on the sleeping platform opposite to where Avon sat cross-legged and announced, quite seriously: “We should do this more often.”

Avon stared at him as though he had grown a second head. Vila thought that _that_ might have been easier to comprehend.

“Have you completely lost your mind, Blake? What – ” Avon paused for breath “ – about _this_ can possibly be desirable to you?”

Blake looked nonplussed. “Oh, not being caught out in the cold, of course – but sleeping out in nature, on a planet. We’re cooped up on the _Liberator_ for too long.”

“What wouldn’t I give for a hot drink, a warm blanket and central heating,” Vila moaned, trying to get comfortable on the hard platform, the cool rock wall lumpy in his back, even though his thermal suit seemed to isolate him from the worst of the cold. Or perhaps he was simply so cold all the way through that he no longer felt it.

“A hot meal, a pillow and artificial light,” Avon added. “We’re dome dwellers. What did you expect, Blake, rampant enthusiasm at experiencing raw nature?”

“Perhaps not quite that,” Blake conceded with a smile. “The furs will help.”

Vila made a face. “I’m not touching that unless I have to.”

“You’ll have to,” Avon said mercilessly. “Better to start using them now, while you still have some excess heat left to warm them.”

“I don’t think I have had any excess heat for hours,” Vila complained and eyed the furs that Blake had nudged towards him.

When he made no move to take them, Avon sighed and made to reach past him. In doing so, he – evidently unthinkingly – put his hand down on the platform for balance and immediately hissed with pain, aborting the movement.

Vila, who had been slowly uncramping his fingers one by one, brushing off the gravel dust as best as he could without rubbing his skin even rawer, winced with him. Blake’s boots came down somewhere in the growing darkness – Vila could barely see him now, just a moving shape against the brighter entrance to the cavern.

“Avon?” Blake asked, a note of alarm in his voice. 

“I’m all right,” Avon said, quite literally lying through the teeth through which he ground out the words.

Blake was moving, and suddenly he was in front of Vila, sitting by Avon. “What happened to your hands?”

“What do you think?” Avon spat, but didn’t draw his hand back when Blake pulled it close with his own, fully gloved ones, to examine it. “Your _bit of a climb_ wasn’t particularly kind to bare skin. And before you tell me that I should have worn proper gloves, you know perfectly well why I didn’t.”

Blake said nothing, simply pulled off one of his own gloves and used his clear skin to brush the dust off Avon’s hand, making Avon wince.

“What about me, eh? I didn’t have gloves either,” Vila complained, though from what he had seen, Avon’s hands had looked worse. His own were starting to warm up a little, even, now that he’d been able to stick them under his armpits and rub them warm.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Blake asked.

“What difference would it have made? We couldn’t stay where we were, we couldn’t contact the _Liberator_ , and I couldn’t have adjusted the bracelets out there – it’s a few hours' work, Blake! We needed to make the climb.”

Blake set to work on Avon’s other hand. “You’ll need to move your fingers, or they will stiffen up.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Avon snapped, and pulled his hand back. “You should put your glove back on. You’re losing heat.”

Blake nodded and stood. “I have a folding cup. I’ll see whether I can find any snow to melt. We’ll need to clean those abrasions.”

“Out there? Don’t be a fool, Blake, it’s pitch dark!”

But Blake was already gone.

Avon sighed and leant back against the wall. Vila had scooted a little closer, appropriating the fur that Blake had abandoned – it still held a little warmth, and as long as he didn’t try to think too hard about where the blanket had come from it was almost comfortable. Dimly, he could see Avon trying to unclench his fingers, his hands bright against the dark trousers, even though they were all covered head to toe in dust. Avon was carefully manipulating his fingers one by one with the other hand, just as Vila had done earlier.

“Try the furs, Avon, they’re warm.”

“No more objections?” Avon said. It might have been a tease in other circumstances, but Avon’s voice was entirely flat.

“I can’t really see them in the dark. I’ll just pretend it’s my blanket from the _Liberator._ ”

Vila watched as Avon drew one of the remaining furs towards himself and huddled under it, clearly as uncomfortable as Vila felt himself.

“I just hope the fool doesn’t fall down a ravine in the dark and forces us to rescue him,” Avon mumbled.

Vila suddenly remembered something and started patting his pockets until he found it. “Here, Avon, I’ve got my pencil torch. You could fix one of the bracelets, get the _Liberator_ to send us proper blankets. A space heater, even.” Vila flicked on the light, casting a circle of brightness against the wall.

Avon sighed. “It’s delicate work, Vila, if I get it wrong I’ll break the bracelet. Under normal circumstances, it’d take me at least an hour. I don’t think I’d be able to even _hold_ a probe right now.”

Vila flicked the light down, but Avon had hidden his hands under the fur. “Show me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. _I_ ’ve only done it _once_ , you couldn’t – ”

“Your _hands_ , not how to fix the bracelet.”

“Blake has prodded at them enough.”

“Yeh, but I know what I’m doing. See?” Vila wiggled his fingers, just to show Avon that he could. It smarted a little, pulling at where he’d scraped his skin, but he _could_ move them.

Avon watched for a moment, then nodded. “Very well, but keep your hands under the furs. You’re – ”

“Losing heat?” Vila slipped his hands back under the fur, plunging the cave into darkness again, and moved right up against Avon, overlapping his fur blanket with Avon’s, and pulled them over both their heads. Then he concentrated again on the circle of light around his hands. He balanced the torch in the crook of his knee, right by Avon’s elbow, and held out his hands. “Well?”

Avon shifted a little, placing his hands in Vila’s. Vila hissed – they were frigid, even after Blake and Avon had already worked them over. He examined them but found no obvious signs of frost bite – the exhausting climb had at least kept them well supplied with blood.

“I get cold hands easily,” Avon said softly. He’d barely moved his fingers, leaving them still in Vila’s.

Vila just held them for a moment, until they no longer felt quite as cold – possibly because they’d leeched all the tentative warmth out of Vila’s – then started his ministrations, rubbing both of Avon’s palms where the gloves had protected his skin, to build up some heat. Then, he set about carefully curling and straightening each finger, one by one, careful not to touch the abrasions. Blake was right – there was a nasty scrape down Avon’s right little finger that they would need to wash out. It bled a little, but nowhere near enough to wash the dust from the wound. Vila’s own hands weren’t clean, either, of course, but at least they weren’t as stiff and cold as Avon’s.

He barely noticed Avon’s breathing calming until Avon’s weight settled against him, and Vila glanced up to find his eyes closed – asleep. Vila grinned to himself and kept up the gentle manipulation of Avon’s hands until Blake arrived, at which Vila peeked above the furs and immediately regretted it when the cold air bit into his cheeks.

Blake brought a gust of frigid air and the light of a second torch he had evidently carried and not seen fit to mention, and a cup full of snow. “Vila?”

“Shh,” Vila said, and mouthed, _asleep_.

Blake nodded and set the cup down, then lay the torch down on the platform and climbed up on Vila’s other side, pulling up the last of the furs. “You can sleep, too, if you like. I’ll keep watch.”

“Any chance of a fire?”

“It will get colder before sunrise.”

“If you want me to stay asleep, you’ll need to stop talking,” Avon mumbled suddenly, voice muffled by the furs. He withdrew his hands, brushing against Vila’s, but seemed reluctant to put any distance between them. Vila wanted him to stay, too. Between them, the cocoon of furs had become almost cosy, even if the furs smelled strangely and the rock was cold and the platform hard and there was a persistent ache in his fingers.

Blake chuckled. “Go to sleep, Vila. I’ll wake you when I’ve melted the snow.”

Vila ducked back under the furs, and flicked off his light. Blake’s weight was reassuring at one side and Avon’s, closer, against his other. Avon had curled up slightly, turned towards Vila so his head rested on Vila’s shoulder, and Vila settled down, tipping his own head over so he brushed against Avon’s hair. Avon hummed softly, evidently half asleep again, and within moments, Vila, too, drifted to sleep.

 

It was warmth that woke him, coming from beyond the tangle of furs – the fire. Vila shifted, finding that while they slept, they’d moved, his head now resting on Avon’s shoulder, whereas Avon’s was tipped back against the rock – visible only because Avon had stolen Vila’s torch and was examining his hands, not looking too pleased.

“How are they?” Vila asked in a whisper, not wanting Blake to notice that they were awake.

Avon breathed a sigh and curled his hands into a lose fist, one after the other. “Not as stiff as they might have been.”

Vila tried his own, finding them flexible enough, though they hurt, too. “Blake will have melted the snow.”

“Blake is asleep,” Avon said.

“But the fire?”

“That was me. Do you always sleep so soundly?”

“Only when I feel safe,” Vila said, and pulled back slightly, poking his head above the furs and pushing them down to settle around both their shoulders. Blake was indeed asleep, curled up behind Vila, the fur wrapped tightly around him. The fire was small, but so was the cavern, and it was generating quite a lot of heat, the smoke drifting out of the opening and therefore, mercifully, away from them. It cast strange shadows on the walls.

“Don’t tell me you managed to light that the way Cally showed us.”

Avon shook his head. “I short-circuited one of the guns. It’ll be useless now, but the fire seemed more important.”

The cup that had been full of snow sat near the fire, and it seemed as though the snow had nearly melted.

“Come on, then,” Vila said, and pulled the furs away, ignoring Avon’s sound of protest. “We oughtn’t wait any longer.”

“Are you an expert in first aid now?” Avon grumbled, but followed him over to the fire.

“No, but my hands are my livelihood. Been taking care of them for 33 or so years, you know.” Vila gathered up the cup, finding it too cold for comfort, but its contents had fully melted. It was probably too much to wish for the water to be warm. He clasped Avon’s hands in his free one and poured, trying to do the most with what little water they had. When the water hit the scrape on Avon’s little finger, he felt Avon tense up and bit down on a wince of his own as the water came away with a reddish tinge.

Avon pulled back to shake his hands out, holding them out towards the flames to dry while Vila washed his other hand with the rest of the water before doing the same. After a moment, Avon reached behind them and tucked the furs to the fire, wrapping one around his shoulders. Vila hastily did the same and then, carefully, shifted so he was brushing shoulders with Avon again.

Avon arched an eyebrow at him but said nothing. He simply shifted so their furs overlapped again and they were sharing what body heat escaped through the thermal suits, leaning against each other.

 

Blake came awake as the first tendrils of daylight were creeping into the cavern and joined them by the fire, sitting close to Avon’s other side as they watched the fire die and the daylight chase away the dancing shadows.

“I hope,” Avon said in a tone halfway between acid and mirth, “that the next time you decide you wish to… sleep rough, Blake, you’ll leave us out of the experience.”

Blake’s mouth twitched into a smile. “I’ll remember, when we have the choice.” His gaze drifted towards the exit. “We should head off soon. It is still a bit of a walk.”

“Hopefully not like it was _a bit of a climb_ ,” Avon commented dryly.

“Would you rather stay and work on the teleport bracelet?” Blake asked him, sounding as though he meant it as a legitimate alternative.

“Could you?” Vila asked, looking at Avon.

Avon shook his head. “It would be a waste of time, now. They could send down some equipment, but we’ll find that faster in the camp – and once there, we can ask them to turn the blasted shield off so _Liberator_ can teleport us out.”

Vila thought of his bed and the hot tea he’d been promising himself throughout the climb and sighed. “That sounds lovely.”

Blake stood, tossing the fur onto the sleeping platform. “Will you be all right? Both of you?”

Avon glanced over at Vila and then stood, pulling Vila to his feet alongside him. His grip was firm enough around Vila’s arm. “We’ll live.”


End file.
